


tell me what's impossible

by just_peachyy



Category: Gintama
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, M/M, My favorite emotionally constipated boys!, Oboro is only mentioned!!, There's a llooooot of kissing I love writing kisses for these two
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-14
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-07-12 05:17:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15988424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/just_peachyy/pseuds/just_peachyy
Summary: Suspension lingers like a miasma. He left a ghost behind in that palace.





	1. I.

**Author's Note:**

> Post Courtesan of a nation arc, I am completely emotionally distraught lmao. Everytime I watch a new arc I get new fic ideas and I always start fragments and my other drafts are always half finished ha
> 
> \+ title from faded by POS which I had on repeat while I was writing this

There's a wriggling suspicion in the back of his head, the pit of his gut, and Shoyou taught him not to ignore these kinds of things. He should go back and check. But Gintoki just knows - 

Oboro is not dead. 

By the end of the week the suspicion grows into a dead weight, cements itself into Gintoki's conscience. He goes to the door when it rings, wincing from his injuries. When he opens it, there is no one there. He looks down and his broken wooden sword lies there forlornly, come home like a loyal dog to its master. A chill settles into his bones and he feels his senses sharpen. It is the same one he impaled Oboro on, no doubt. It bears the scuff marks from blocking his needles, the dark stain at the top that must be his blood. 

He takes it inside with his hands trembling, and calls Kagura and Shinpachi and tells them to go to Kodoukan. At least there, they'll be safer than with him. They argue fiercely, but Gintoki shouts them down. As he watches them leave, he has a suspicion that it wasn't his words that persuaded them, but perhaps the crazed look in his eyes. He catches a glance of himself as he passes the mirror in the hallway, and he nearly recoils. He is a rabid animal, the white demon, delirious from nightmares come to life. 

He's alone in his apartment. Grabbing Shinpachi's bokken, he leaves and walks in the direction of the river. 

**

He's too jumpy. Adrenaline won't stop pushing through his body, and it leaves him dizzy in its wake. He walks all the way down to the ports, half here, half back with Shoyou and his small classroom. Idyllic. Takasugi's dark head, bent over his book, Katsura's bright eyes following his beloved teacher. Gintoki's hands never letting go of that sword, eyes half shut as he watched his teacher and his classmates, the wind chime singing softly from the engawa and butterflies flitting in to land on the hilt of the sword amidst the hum of the cicadas. 

The rain starts gently and hesitantly as he reaches one of the last bridges before the river pours out into the sea. He doesn't think he's been followed. The wooden sword at his door was simply a warning and a reminder that the fight was not yet over. An undecided match. 

Far away, Takasugi cleans his sword. The old man's blood was full of greed and cunning, and it would be bad to leave it on his blade for long. Bansai plucks out lonely notes from his shamisen from the corner, his head bent, but Takasugi has no doubt that he is watching him. 

"Bansai." He starts, sliding the cloth over the tip of the blade. 

"Yes?" Pale eyes behind dark glasses. 

"Play something for me." Takasugi runs a finger along the edge of the blade, testing its sharpness. Blood wells from a sudden cut, and he sticks it in his mouth with a small smile. 

"As you wish." Bansai begins with slow notes that spiral upwards into a complex melody. His head nods gently to the song, the pick a blur in his hands, Takasugi's blood rich and dark on his tongue. 

Closer still, Katsura practices his katas. He has not been able to shake the feeling of unease from his mind. The monotony of a thousand kendo drills would be enough, he argued, and threw himself into them with a fury. He'd heard about the chaos at the palace. He'd heard about Gintoki, an assassin in a sedge hat and wielding a sword disguised as a monk's staff, the previous shogun's crumpled body in his cell, withered and pitiful in death. 

He steps backwards into a memory and stumbles. The tip of his practice sword droops, and his arms become leaden as the exhaustion comes at him full force. Shoyou taps his shoulders with the spine of his book, a gentle smile on his lips. 

Hold your back straight. Swing with your entire body, not just your arms. 

Walking through rice paddies at dusk, dragonflies and swallows flitting around them as the cicadas held their last song. Gintoki and Takasugi's bickering rising and falling over them like a serenade as the sun finally bows it's head and tucks itself under the horizon. Shoyou's hair fluttering behind him like a flag, his pale, warm eyes surveying them. 

Strands of his hair, cut by Gintoki's sword on that cliff with leaden skies, fluttering behind him and touching Katsura's cheek as they blew away; a final caress. 

Katsura ignores the burning in his arms and in his eyes and hoists his sword up again. One thousand more. He grits his teeth - no, he bares them. 

Even closer now; Hijikata's office is silent except for the soft hiss of his brush inking lines into the page. He's finished his reports for the night and is inking one meaningless haiku after the other, burning them in the candle and watching them wither and curl in his ashtray. He thinks about the way Gintoki's eyes had looked when he had seen him briefly at the hospital: empty and haunted, like staring into a long forgotten well. The same thrill of fear and apprehension had gone up his spine. 

The plum blossoms are falling now, landing on the engawa in a damp mess as the rain comes down as a dancing partner. Hijikata's left the screen doors open to listen to the soft hiss of the rain as it falls, and as he watches the blossoms of the plum trees tremble from the momentary burden of the raindrops he has a sudden urge to go see Gintoki. He grabs his haori and his umbrella, and after a moment grabs a spare haori and a scarf. As he walks out onto main street, he calls Yorozuya and is greeted warmly by a dial tone. 

**

Unsetting, silver  
Crushed plum blossoms underfoot  
Awash with moonlight 

** 

"Hey."

He is barely able to stop himself from flinching and whipping out the wooden sword and putting it to his throat. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Hijikata barely conceal his small flinch at the flex of his muscle, unavoidable in his line of work. Gintoki swallows hard, tilts his head and looks at the man standing before him. Hijikata is holding an umbrella and a spare haori and scarf.

"How long have you been out here, you perm head?" He tsks. He leans down and drapes the haori over Gintoki's shoulders, winds the scarf about his neck, holds the umbrella over the both of them.

Even though Gintoki finds it easy to talk to Hijikata - albeit in their complex and secret code - he can't find the strength inside of himself to open his mouth. He doesn't quite feel anything in fact, except for the brief blossoming of warmth as the vice chief's hands brushed over his shoulders as he drew the haori around him. He latches onto the feeling. Oboro had called him a restless demon who'd crawled back from hell. He was drifting now, and Hijikata's warmth was like an anchor. 

"You listening?" Hijikata says, breaking his reverie and leaning partially into him. Gintoki feels his skin break out into pins and needles as his steady warmth slowly thaws him out.

"You'll catch your death like this. I'll buy you a drink, come on." There's no edge of panic or worry to his voice. Either Hijikata is an accomplished actor, or he truly isn't worried about Gintoki in that moment. Rather, he seems to know how his other self will react, seems to know that this, like most storms, will pass.

Gintoki gets up, blinking blearily. Hijikata doesn't complain when he stops near the mouth of the alley back to main street, and lets his head fall onto the vice chief's shoulder. He's so warm. 

He doesn't say anything, just puts his arms around his waist to hold him up and hold him close.

Gintoki puts his head up, searching for the other's mouth in the half dark.

"Gintoki." Hijikata says, and strangely, he cannot read the other man's tone. It's unfamiliar.

"It's so cold," Gintoki murmurs. "Won't you - won't you warm me up?"

Hijikata is as still as a statue. His eyes are the color of an ocean trench, fathomless and curious.

"I'm cold." His voice comes out in a whisper, and he leans closer to Hijikata, hoping, hoping.

His other self cups his cheek hesitantly, like he is made of spun glass and might shatter at any moment. His thumb brushes over his cheekbone, rubs lightly over a small scar left there by one of Oboro's needles. His fingers move and brush Gintoki's rain dampened hair away from his eyes.

"Hijikata," Gintoki says, wetting his lips. He catches the way the other man's eyes flit down to drink in the sight, and he parts them a bit more until it could be considered lewd.

The vice chief leans down to kiss him, fitting their mouths together sweetly, perfectly. There's a flush of warmth in Gintoki's entire body, and he opens his mouth to draw him deeper, his pulse audible in his skull.

Hijikata pulls away with a soft noise, leaving Gintoki panting. His eyes have a familiar look in them, a look he's seen on himself and Takasugi and Katsura. Disguised sorrow.

"Again," Gintoki says. "Please."

Hijikata gives him another, covering his mouth with his own. His hand slides down Gintoki's neck, draws a line down a tendon, slips under the collar of his yukata.

"One more," Gintoki says when they pull away, and there's an edge of desperation in his voice.

Hijikata blinks, but kisses him again, his hand wandering down to his waist and then to his hand, stroking a finger along the delicate inside of his wrist. He laces their fingers together and brings it up to his mouth, where he kisses the back of Gintoki's hand.

"What's gotten into you?" He whispers against his hand. Gintoki's fingers are trembling, and he gently pulls away and clenches his fist in the sleeves of his yukata, out of view. 

"Nothing." Gintoki smiles, but he knows it's shaking apart at the edges, maybe looks like he feels. 

"Gintoki." Hijikata's eyes are the color of spilled ink when he steps towards him into the shadow. "Gintoki, what happened at the castle? Talk to me."

He can't speak. His other self is looking at him with true care and unveiled worry in his eyes, and Gintoki's heart shakes a bit because he knows he can't give Hijikata anywhere near the same amount of vulnerability. The thought of it makes him nauseous and he puts a hand to his mouth, stepping back until his back hits the bricks of the wall. 

He shakes his head, feeling himself start to drift again. He knocks his head back against the wall and blinks hard against the sting. The pain grounds him. 

"Watch it," Hijikata says, gently tugging him forwards away from the wall. "If you don't wanna talk, that's fine. But Gintoki, please. Don't do this all by yourself, okay? Depend on people." 

The people I depend on always get hurt, he wants to say. But Hijikata moves the umbrella over the both of them and kisses him again, tender and coaxing. 

Gintoki grasps the lapels of his haori and pulls him close, desperation roaring up in a tidal wave inside of him. He wants him as close as possible, he wants to breathe him in and drown in him, and Hijikata seems to understand because he pulls away with a sudden, simmering warmth in his eyes. 

Déjà vue: he presses him back against the bricks and kisses the life out of him, a low growl stuck at the bottom of his throat. Gintoki gasps and parts his legs ever so slightly, and Hijikata's knee slots in between them in an instant. The air around them is desperate now, tinged with hunger and relief and longing. Battle toughens them; they are only laid bare this much in front of each other.

Hijikata is gasping his name, his hands tightening on his waist, brushing his hair back from his face. Gintoki's world narrows down to this moment, and he fights to preserve it as clearly as possible. Set in stone, in sparkling, crystalline memory: the pressure and the heat of Hijikata's body pressing up against his, the warmth and firm yielding of his lips, the tickle of his lashes over Gintoki's cheekbones, even the small pinpricks of cold wet as the rain starts up hesitantly again, sending down drops only every so often. 

Hijikat pulls away and opens his eyes halfway, and Gintoki's heart trips over itself as he sees the normally clear blue of them clouded with love and longing. Suddenly bashful, he buries his head in the crook of Hijikata's neck. Warm fingertips touch the back of his neck and stroke gently over the ridge of his spine and the biggest tendons in his throat. He even feels a pair of warm, slightly chapped lips brush against the spot of skin where his blood beats the loudest before they part to suck a small mark onto the tender skin. He lets out a shaky breath at the little spark of pain and his lover licks over the spot in apology. 

Gintoki's heart is beating out of his chest. Hijikata can probably feel it. He swallows twice to wet his mouth, his grip tightening unconsciously on Hijikata's arms. 

"What happens now?" He asks lowly. 

Hijikata's eyes are the color of newly frozen ice at dusk. "Whatever you want."


	2. II.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WELL IT'S ABOUT TIME YOU GOT THIS CHAPTER UP, MADS DAMN
> 
> I AM SO SORRY FOR THE INCREDIBLY LATE UPDATE UHHHH biology is hard. junior year is hard!! echoing the eternal words of sorachi, i would rather be some type of bread than me at the moment!! i hope you guys enjoy, please feel free to leave your thoughts in the comments!!

Gintoki unlocks the door to Yorozuya slowly, blinking against the tide of paranoia. He can't help but be apprehensive; that Oboro might be hiding in the alcove of the genkan, ready to gut him with his unusual sword that gleamed like an oil spill. His minions perched on the rafters with their sedge hats hanging comically from their chins. Oboro is a reminder of his failure. A reminder of his broken promise to Shoyou. A reminder that he's not enough - 

He's twisting his mind into knots, self doubt and loathing creeping in and tangling their fingers in the mess. His fingers are resting on the pale, worn wood of the doorframe.

"Oy." Hijikata taps his hand where it is shaking lightly on the doorknob. "Gintoki. Where are you?" 

He smiles bracingly, briefly so that Hijikata doesn't see the edges crumbling, and steps inside. It's strange not to be greeted by the kids, or even Sadaharu when he comes in. It's eerie without the noise. 

"Hey." Hijikata is saying, and Gintoki looks at him.

"I've been calling you a couple times now." He touches his cheek. "You okay? Gintoki." 

"Later." Gintoki murmurs, leaning forwards to kiss the vice chief. Hijikata's expression is troubled, but he kisses back anyway, his eyes falling shut. His fingers are stroking tentatively over his cheekbone, the slope between his neck and his shoulder. 

The desperation and longing that had been dampened by the strange anxiety suddenly seizes him and Gintoki tightens his grip on Hijikata's lapels and nearly drags him to the bedroom. He makes a surprised noise at the sudden movement, and grunts as he's pushed over onto the half made futon. 

"Hey, hey, hang on!" Hijikata snaps, pushing him back gently. "Listen, you're not -" 

"Please?" Gintoki blurts out. His fingers are digging into his hips through his dark yukata. He catches Hijikata's eyes change. "Hijikata, I just - I just need you. Just -" 

"Okay." His eyes are soft as he brushes silver hair out of damp eyes. "Okay." 

Gintoki blinks and looks determinedly at the spot above Hijikata's head, his heart twisting at the sudden tenderness. It's not that bad to see that kind of look on his face - something so vulnerable and open that it makes him ache, his normally sharp eyes and hard mouth softened and smoothed out. Only in front of him, he thinks, and the thought fills him with a visceral pleasure. Only him. 

Gintoki undoes the obi holding his yukata shut and lets it slither off his shoulders. Goosebumps break out as the chill of the room and the heat of Hijikata's gaze touches his skin, and he shrugs out of the black shirt and pants, throws his briefs to the side and kneels in the cradle of Hijikata's legs, stripes of streetlight lying on his skin. 

He pushes the dark yukata off of his broad shoulders. It crumples and rustles to settle around his waist, held there only by the obi. Gintoki feels a flush climb up his cheeks and he buries his face in Hijikata's chest, listening to the rapid drum of his heart. He reminds him of a half torn open present, and somehow the way the yukata conceals parts of him is more erotic than having him completely naked. 

Hijikata is looking up at him with a look of longing and wonder, lips parted for breath. Gintoki's heart squeezes and he tucks a kiss against the corner of his mouth, clumsy with arousal. He grabs the lube and wets his fingers, pushing Hijikata's hands away as they reach to help. He flashes a brief smile at him and watches him lean back a bit further into shadow, the amber of the streetlight sliding off of his face. 

His head falls against Hijikata's shoulder and he closes his eyes as he brushes against his prostate. His breath shakes, and he fingers himself open perfunctorily and scissors his fingers before reaching for the loose obi of Hijikata's yukata. 

"Wait, wait," Hijikata says, but Gintoki pushes apart the heavy autumn fabric and shoves Hijikata's briefs down to his thighs, sinks down on his erection with a muffled cry of mingled pain and relief. The immediate fullness pushes his thoughts to the back of his mind, and a heady warmth fills him. There's an edge of pain that normally isn't so strong, only abating as he rocks on his dick to chase his pleasure. He can hear someone whimpering, sounding almost pained. With a funny jolt, he realizes that it's him.

"Gintoki!" Hijikata snaps, pushing his shoulder. "It's hurting you, stop-"

He shakes his head, sweat matting his hair to his forehead. He brushes Hijikata's hand away, his upper lip curling in a snarl of pain and pleasure. 

"Gintoki, I'm serious. Please." Hijikata's hands tighten on his hips, stilling him completely. "Stop it."

Shuddering, Gintoki goes limp. He lets Hijikata lay him down on the futon, closes his eyes as he feels Hijikata pull out gently, apologizing softly. He feels him press a kiss to his forehead, and he opens his eyes. He's pulled his yukata over himself clumsily, brow furrowed as he looks at Gintoki. 

"Hey." He whispers, and touches Gintoki's cheek. His fingers come away wet and he swallows hard against the rising panic, leaning close to press their foreheads together. Gintoki's hands come up, trembling, and rest gently on his wrists. 

"Gintoki. What was that?" Hijikata asks. 

"Nothing." Gintoki whispers. 

"Nothing, my ass. Don't lie to me like that. Please." Worry makes his words sharp and edges them in steel, and he sees the other man wince a bit. He kisses his cheeks and licks the salt from his lips to soften his words. 

"I'm just - I don't want to think about it. Don't make me think about it." He looks up at him, and his eyes glow like a cat's. His tone is pleading, and his grip tightens on Hijikata's wrists. 

Hijikata gives him his best vice-chief look of dubiousness. "Gintoki-"

"Please." He says, kissing him. "Hijikata. I just want to forget for a while." He pulls him closer until Hijikata is nearly on top of him and puts his arms around his neck, buries his face in the crook of his neck. 

"Then make me a promise."

"What?"

"Make a promise with me." Hijikata tucks his nose into Gintoki's curls. "Let me set the pace okay? I'll help you forget for a while, but after, you have to talk to someone about this okay?" 

"Hijikata-"

"Gintoki." He's using his no nonsense Shinsengumi vice-chief tone, but worry and tenderness lurks under it. 

"Okay." Gintoki agrees softly. Hijikata relaxes, and he pushes his lips against Gintoki's neck, where he had left a hickey in the alleyway. 

"You still wanna?" He asks lowly, and Gintoki nods, pulls him close. His fingers curl possessively into the shoulders of his yukata, and he bunches it up under his hands and pushes it off of him. He rubs away the prickling of goosebumps that scatter across his skin. 

"Lie back." Hijikata says, and Gintoki follows without a word, feeling oddly vulnerable on the futon. But it's only them, he reminds himself. It's only him and Hijikata in the small room, and it's as if it's only the two of them in the entire world.

Hijikata presses kisses to his neck, down to his chest, sucking a mark onto the plane of his hips before gently licking the head of his half-hard dick. Gintoki puts his hand to his mouth and squeezes his eyes shut. Pleasure starts up slowly, inexorably in the pit of his stomach, warming him up all the way to his fingertips, the crown of his head. He feels fingers tracing over the thick, ropy scars on his back and his waist, the one on his thigh, and his eyes fly open. 

"Hijikata, don't-"

"Can you feel this?" His fingers are a dull shadow of pressure and warmth on the scars. 

"N-no," Gintoki says breathlessly. He reaches for Hijikata, who takes his hand in his own and presses his lips reverently to the pale scars on his waist, then the back of his hand, his fingertips. 

"How about this?" He feels rather than sees the upturn of his lips into a devious smile, feels the slick finger delve into him and gently rub across his prostate, sending a wave of pleasure crashing through him. 

"A-Ah!" He cries out and arches, biting down on his knuckles to muffle the noise. 

"Don't do that." Hijikata reaches up with his clean hand and tugs his hand away from his mouth. Whining, Gintoki suddenly feels shy. He turns his head to the side, biting his lip against the sparks of arousal clattering a wild scale up his spine and through his veins. 

"Does it feel good? Gintoki."

"Yes," he pants. 

A flash of teeth as Hijikata smiles, a shout tumbling out of Gintoki's mouth as the other man's grip tightens right below the head of his dick where he's especially sensitive. He whines and turns his head to the side, the pleasure making him dizzy with it.

Gintoki reaches forward and grabs Hijikata's arm. "I'm gonna come," he gasps out. 

"So come," the other man says, lips tilting up in a smile before he licks his cock from root to tip. 

Warmth floods Gintoki's body and he arches with a shout. Hijikata hums as he comes, his eyes shutting in pleasure. 

I love you, he thinks he says as the world crumbles and rebuilds itself in half a moment. When his senses work again, Hijikata is pressing kisses to his face. 

"Bastard," Gintoki says breathlessly. 

The vice chief utters a short laugh. "Welcome back," he grins, kissing him with an edge of teeth.

Gintoki throws his arms around his neck and holds him there. "We don't have all night, officer." He murmurs into his ear, relishing the little shiver. 

"Don't we?" 

It's always like this with the two of them. Everything devolves into a competition; they wrestle with each other, pressing each other down into the futon and rolling around until Gintoki feels Hijikata's body yield, letting himself end up below Gintoki. 

Gintoki smiles triumphantly. "I win. You owe me a parfait, Mr. Officer." 

Hijikata laughs. There's a measure of relief knowing that Gintoki's loosened up, the threat of whatever was on his mind on the backburner. Knowing him, though, he'll probably try to keep it that way and end up stewing over it for a while until it consumes him. The man wallows in guilt, but Hijikata understands. You can't be a samurai without remorse. 

Gintoki is wiggling around, impatient again. His dick curves up to his flushed belly, and his lips are parted. 

"Hijikata," he calls out. 

"Okay, okay." He gives him a half smile, reaches for the lube again. Gintoki is writhing on the futon a couple minutes later, three of Hijikata's fingers stretching him open. There are tears hanging into his lashes as he tells Hijikata to hurry up, and when he leans in to kiss him Gintoki reaches up and pushes him onto his back, straddling his waist in a flash. 

"You'd better stop if it hurts." Hijikata threatens, but his voice trails off into a moan of surprise and pleasure as Gintoki sinks down onto him with a gasp. 

It's always the heat of him that surprises Hijikata, no matter how many times they do it. And then it's the greedy, vise-like grip that his body has on his, as if he never wants to let go. Then, the flush on Gintoki's face creeping down his chest, the flutter and clench of his abdomen when he touches his fingertips to his belly, hypersensitive and shuddering from the glance of pressure. 

"S-stop that, you sap," Gintoki gasps, fingers digging into Hijikata's chest almost painfully as he keeps himself up. 

"Mmm," Hijikata hums, mostly because he can't bring himself to say anything else. The moonlight is dimmed and overshadowed by the eternal streetlights of Kabukicho, and he watches, entranced, as they slide over Gintoki's pale skin. 

Gintoki rides him at a brutal pace, sweat beading his forehead, dotting his collarbone. His teeth are bared sometimes, mouth parted for breath at others. Hijikata watches, can't help the feeling that the wheels are ever so slightly out of their usual grooves in the earth. Gintoki seems to realize that they won't last at the pace he's going, and he grinds to a halt, wilting onto Hijikata's chest. 

He even has sex like he's trying to punish himself, Hijikata thinks, and the thought sours and makes him still. Gintoki makes a questioning noise when he stops thrusting into that addicting heat, his hand floating down to touch his hips curiously, almost nervously. 

"Come here," Hijikata gets out, and Gintoki tilts his head in question. 

"You're inside of me, Hijikata-kun, I don't quite know how I can come any closer." He says dryly. 

Hijikata blinks away a scowl and rolls them over so that he's on top, even backs him up slightly so that his shoulders touch the wall. 

"Oy," Gintoki says, his face pink. "Hijikata-kun, what are you doing?" 

"Do you mind?" He asks, suddenly unsure. It must show on his face, because the small inkling of doubt in the other man's red eyes is immediately softened and replaced with trust. 

"Go right ahead." 

Hijikata smiles and tucks a kiss against Gintoki's cheek. He sets an achingly slow pace that has Gintoki whining, scratching at his back in pleasure and impatience. Hijikata's muscles feel warm and loose, the burning settling into them feeling like the sharp ache of doing a hundred practice swings; clean, well-deserved pain, hard-won and deeply satisfying. Gintoki's hand roams over his skin, touching scars and taut tendons and tracing over the lines of muscle. They're shaking.

"Now?" Gintoki says breathlessly. Between then, his cock strains for release; his navel is flushed and trembling. 

"Not yet." Hijikata pants. 

Gintoki's hands rest in his hair, wander down to his cheek; he slips a finger into Hijikata's mouth and his lips parted at the heat and the wetness. Hijikata opens his eyes and locks them with Gintoki's, and sucks gently on his finger. 

He closes his eyes against the sudden, crushing tide of pleasure, and barely has the time to gasp out Hijikata's name as he comes. It's overwhelming: his vision fragments, kaleidoscopic and he can't control the sounds coming out of his mouth. He knows his fingers are probably digging in too hard for comfort into Hijikata's arms, but he can't unclench them. Somewhere in the middle, he feels Hijikata come too, feels his head drop onto the crook of his shoulder, his breaths coming heavy and stuttering into his neck. When he comes back down to earth, he feels tears on his cheeks, caught in the arch of his ear. He's still trembling with aftershocks, and Hijikata is more or less in the same state. 

Lax and drunk on pleasure, they don't move for a long while, letting their minds settle firmly back into their trembling bodies. Hijikata murmurs a warning before he pulls out, drawing a violent shudder from Gintoki. 

"Jeez," Gintoki starts breathlessly, because of course he has to get the first word in. "You really - what did you do to me?" 

Hijikata shrugs and reaches for the box of tissues. He takes out a few and dabs at Gintoki's messy stomach, hyper-aware of the other man's eyes resting on him almost appraisingly. 

"D'you wanna take a bath?" Gintoki offers, and Hijikata nods. He feels like he's done a thousand practice swings. He actually moans when he gets into the bath, and sinks down until his nose touches the steaming water. He watches Gintoki wash himself at the shower head, humming a mindless tune to himself. Hijikata's eyes follow the trail of cum and lube that trickles down Gintoki's thigh before the water washes it away, and when he pulls his eyes up, Gintoki's gaze meets him halfway, a well-worn smile already in them. 

"Pervert." Gintoki calls fondly, splashing into the bath and immediately sitting in the cradle of Hijikata's hips. He leans back, his back to Hijikata's chest, head falling back to rest on his shoulder. 

"You're the pervert," Hijikata ripostes weakly, lax and content with being skin-to-skin with Gintoki. He seems calmer now. The air around him at the river and in the alleyway was frenzied and anxious, and it had made the hairs on Hijikata's neck stand up. Even in the hall of his house, or when he first pushes him down and tried to take him, his eyes had had a wild, crazed look to them. 

"Are you better now?" Hijikata dares to ask, and he feels Gintoki still. 

"Yeah," he replies, relaxing again, and his other self sounds ten years older and infinitely more tired. His eyes are nearly closed, but Hijikata knows that he's awake. "Thanks." 

"You don't ever have to tell me. Just don't stew in it. Come spar with me or something, at the very least. Beat me up so you can let off some steam." 

"Hah," Gintoki turns his head towards him, nose touching his neck. "I can't believe you're asking me to beat the crap out of you. If only Okita-kun were here to see." 

"Do you mind not bringing him up while we're naked." He deadpans, closing his eyes. "Speak of the devil and he shall appear and all that."

Gintoki's laugh echoes off the tiles. Hijikata likes the feel of him shaking with mirth against his chest and squeezes him closer. 

"Hey," Hijikata says. "Look at me." 

Gintoki turns his head, the last dregs of his laughter still on his lips. Hijikata kisses him, his hand tightening around his hip underwater. Gintoki kisses back eagerly, mouth pliant and yielding; there's a flush of warmth in Hijikata's chest, and he pulls away for a moment and knocks their foreheads together. 

"You'll be alright, huh?" He asks. 

His other self smiles softly, eyes warm and fond. "We'll both be alright," he assures him. The promise echoes off the tiles, makes the water ripple, makes Hijikata smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if I have the discipline to keep up a schedule and post updates based on that schedule because I have like....40 minutes of free time a day and it's usually spent crying or planning or both?? school sucks lmao!! 
> 
> Anyway ---- @drunkmaenad on tumblr!! Requests are open, by the way, hmu!


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